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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993734">tonjiru stuff(y)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmoomoo/pseuds/kenmoomoo'>kenmoomoo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, M/M, Morning Kisses, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sickfic, akaashi cooks 4 bokuto yesyes, can that even count i do not know, congestion n coughing n sneezing, domestic boyfiessss, i cant cook though so i didnt include him making it, i lov bokuaka with all my heart, its just like. a v mild flu!!!, not in detail though, sorry if this was annoying im dumb and gay, that one thing, the im sick n we kissed n now oh no are u sneezing well shit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:22:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmoomoo/pseuds/kenmoomoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“here.” he’s deemed it cool enough to taste. akaashi lifts the spoon to bokuto’s mouth, who closes his lips around it and drinks the warm, peppery soup in. he pouts.</p><p> </p><p>mumbles, “i can eat it hot.”</p><p> </p><p>softly, akaashi says, “i know.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tonjiru stuff(y)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>♡</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the morning exhales its icy clouds, squeezing through the space under the gym doors. </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s not here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what they said. it cast confusion over akaashi like yellowed streetlights with their eyes boring holes into his skull, as he was wondering too at their absent captain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>and with good reason - it was out of character for him, not just considering his position but as the kind of person he is. akaashi mulled over what might possibly have kept bokuto from school, and his suspicions were confirmed by their libero, komi. without the captain the rest of the team had gotten into setting and spiking drills or self-practices and handled themselves well, even if a dullness lingered.</span>
  <em>
    <span> he’s sick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the fact that akaashi hadn’t been told beforehand was a little conflicting. not so much because they talk a lot outside of school or practice - they don’t - but bokuto has played through several what-should-have-been sick days, and if couldn’t bear it he’d let at least akaashi know.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>if he was here he’d no doubt be squawking at him for another toss, another angle, another chance to spike the ball just right. akaashi sends a round of sets to the wall which he catches and returns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>with no bokuto, he should be able to relax, but he’s been biting into the pad of his thumb and when his teeth break skin, the ball hits the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—♡—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“so he’s still sick?” sarukui’s concern is not missed. it isn’t a wariness directed towards bokuto’s skill or management; though there are upcoming practice games on the weekend, it’s genuine worry about his captain’s wellbeing.  “weekend’s starting and he hasn’t come in three days now…you think he’s okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi scratches at his fingers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>konoha takes a swig of water and wipes his mouth. he pats sarukui’s shoulder. “bokuto <em>does </em>act like a toddler half the time, but he'll be okay. his need to be cool will have him feeling better soon if nothing else.” he shoots akaashi a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“bokuto-san has more resolve than we might think,” offers akaashi. “if he’s staying home, it’s because he thinks it best for everyone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>straightening out his frown, sarukui nods. “should someone check on him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the thought of a sickly bokuto is unappealing, put plainly. past times saw the owl-like boy anywise exponentially clingier and needier, amplified, of course, coinciding with his personality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>despite this: “i’ll do it,” breathes akaashi.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—♡—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto’s house, like many other things associated with him, holds a familiarity like remnants from a past life - a soft-suggestive sort of charisma, ever-inviting to what it may offer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi hangs his duffle coat on a wall peg. takes in the hum of the heater working its way into his bones and the lighted-incense-aromas from somewhere; sandalwood and lemongrass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he has not seen bokuto outside of school like this in a while. the first time he’d gone, he couldn’t have been there for more than an hour but he’d been entrusted with a spare key to come in anytime he liked, which baffled him. </span>
  <span>since then, it’s been used mainly only when bokuto’s accidentally locked himself out. akaashi has never really felt the need to visit bokuto privately in his home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>placing the sealed tupperware of homemade tonjiru on the counter, akaashi fixes hot tea in practised motions, aiming to have something to fit with the food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>as the tea steeps he adds cinnamon and apple honey; spice and something floral and fruit-like pervading the intake of breath. then he moves a fitting amount of soup into a bowl along with a soup spoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>his family was never big on prescribed sorts of medicines, and didn’t do much when he said he felt poorly either way. so he learnt how to care for himself by other means available. </span>
  <span>when his throat hurt, he’d make ginger or echinacea tea with a bit of honey to soothe the soreness. </span>
  <span>if he found it hard to breathe, rub peppermint and lemon oils into the bottoms of his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>naturally, he learnt a bit about cooking too, always standing a little ways from the stove watching his mother leant over steaming pots and sizzling pans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he takes the finished mug of maroonish tea that sinks its warmth into the cup and so, too, his palm, balancing the bowl of soup on his other hand as he goes upstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>there are framed photos running along the walls of the staircase. one is of a small bokuto next to two girls who look just like him, only older, all looking infinitely happy. another shows him situated on a woman’s hip and covering an eye with his chubby hand, teary yet still wearing a signature wide and careless grin directed towards the woman. his mother, probably. akaashi has never met her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he can picture this younger bokuto running up and down these stairs. sometimes he’s gotten back up and laughed for minutes on end. sometimes he’s tripped and bumped his knees and cried. the thought rests someplace safe in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he knocks on bokuto’s door before opening it with his free hand. a voice grows louder - it’s coming from the tv. on the bed, swaddled in blankets, bokuto watches a bird documentary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he is red-nosed and puffy-eyed, skin sheen like he’d been sitting in a sauna. the bangs drooping down over his forehead are damp and the folded white cloth pressed firmly there looks to be too. like this, bokuto resembles a boiled egg.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>with a quiet thud, akaashi sets the mug down beside him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>albeit stuffy, bokuto drags out the oh-so-familiar, “akaaaashiiii! you came!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto is in his boxers and a sweater that hangs off his broad shoulders, the exposed neck and clavicle flushed. sweaty hands encompass akaashi’s. he lets himself be coaxed into bed and doesn’t falter at their thighs touching. guides his glasses further up his nose bridge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i kinda forgot you had those,” says a croaky bokuto, watching the movement of his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“my glasses?” akaashi touches them again. “i wear them often, bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto flails his arms. “i know! i know! i was just saying.” he wags a finger in akaashi’s direction, and then his short attention span catches on the item in both hands now. “what’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“your soup,” answers akaashi, tapping the spoon against the bowl’s rim. “it’s tonjiru, i thought you might want pork.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“meat…” bokuto eyes grow comically wide. ever the dramatic. “did you make it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>akaashi.</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re so cool.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“mhm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>fog clouds the lenses of akaashi’s glasses, obscuring his sight whilst he sends cool air over the spoon tenderly. akaashi blows and blows even as bokuto whines because he knows if he lets him eat it hot, he’ll burn his lip or his tongue and he’ll cry and akaashi does not know if he has it in him to see that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“here.” he’s deemed it cool enough to taste. akaashi lifts the spoon to bokuto’s mouth, who closes his lips around it and drinks the warm, peppery soup in. he pouts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>mumbles, “i can eat it hot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>softly, akaashi says, “i know.” </span><em><span>but you hate-hate burning your tongue. </span></em><span>he points to the mug on the side table.</span> <span>“you’ve to drink this, too.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he eyes it suspiciously like it will lick back at him, lick flames into his cheeks and fill his throat with the leftover ashes. “what is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“elderberry tea.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>you don’t like lemon or ginger.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“elderberry.” echoes bokuto - butterscotch-eyed and watermelon rind mouth. he sips and doesn’t immediately recoil - a good sign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“how is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yummy. good. really good,” says bokuto, sniffing, the steam already working to clear his congestion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“and the tonjiru?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“a cutlery masterpiece.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi stares. “culinary.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“huh?” his breath fans out over akaashi’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you said ‘cutlery’. you meant to say culinary. a culinary masterpiece.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto gives surprised eyes, a tiny smile, and then knits his brows together and frowns, looking very confused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>backtrack. backtrack.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“‘cutlery’ is what you eat with,” explains akaashi. he moves his hands as he speaks. “‘culinary’ refers to cooking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto’s mouth forms an ‘o’ at that. he nods, even though he doesn’t seem to process it all the way still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi simply dismisses it, taking intervals of feeding him and letting him drink. bokuto showers akaashi in needless praise, mouth full and all, teeth clinking against the spoon between his words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he puts his hands on akaashi’s shoulders, leaning in close. “‘kaashi, henk youw sho mush by da wahy - youw da besh </span>
  <em>
    <span>ev -”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>disturbing.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “swallow your food before you talk, you’ll choke,” warns akaashi. he blinks and moves away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“sho’” - </span>
  <em>
    <span>gulp</span>
  </em>
  <span> - “rry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto calms down and watches tv some more. akaashi’s left him to working on the food himself, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(bokuto, attention not properly balanced, misses several times whilst eating and jams the spoon into his chin and cheek, broth falling back into the bowl or dribbling down his face. he does not seem to notice this.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>once maybe half of the tea is gone and most of the tonjiru too, akaashi checks his notifications. there is a text from konoha, received from the time practice would be nearing its end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>17:17</span>
</p><p>
  <span>konoha: is</span>
  <span> bokuto okay?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi side-eyes the messy boy in question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi: bokuto-san is fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>konoha: he’ll come back tmrw</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>konoha: ?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>as if on cue bokuto lets out a string of honking coughs. tomorrow is a saturday. practice is rather early, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi: his condition is not the best but he’ll be fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi: if he’s better in the morning he’ll be able to come within a day or two. don’t worry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>konoha: im not</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>konoha: are u?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto tugs akaashi into the space between his legs, putting his head on akaashi’s shoulder. he holds him here, breathing slightly laboured as he whistles through his nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“mm?” mutters akaashi. bokuto’s hair tickles his neck and he is very, very warm. he peers down at akaashi’s phone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“konoha?” he pushes his head closer. a thumb partially covers the messages.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yes, it’s konoha. what is it, bokuto-san?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ohhh. hey, did you” - he starts up, and he pauses and turns his head to the side for a sneeze, one golden eye closing briefly, and brushes his nose against his sweater sleeve - “did you not stay after for practice?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi hums and turns his phone off. “i didn’t want to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to?” bokuto scrunches his face like he’s heard something mind-boggling. then it shifts to a doggish grin. “akaashi~ that’s not it, right? you never miss practice or ask to come over.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>it’s true. but what could he say to that, anyway? </span>
  <em>
    <span>the team was worried? </span>
  </em>
  <span>that would be too detached - like he was forced to come see him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i was worried?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“why would i lie, bokuto-san?” he means this to sound rhetoric, maybe a bit playful - it comes out soft. vulnerable. the tone shift seems to put bokuto off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he coughs. “what d’you -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“sorry, it was nothing.” akaashi relaxes against bokuto’s chest, waving the conversation off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto frowns, displeased. “don’t do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“do what,” says akaashi flatly. he’s pulled his hands back and started touching them. trying to wring out the sweat like a dirty gym towel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i was listening,” he murmurs into murky tea-water and ceramic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi pretends he didn’t hear it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...akaashi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“can i hug you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you already are,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, but nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he gets closer, if possible, cuddling into akaashi with all the grace and consideration of a child. this, the attachment and clinginess, never fails to tickle akaashi anxious. it’s natural to be needy when you’re sick, he knows this, but.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>there comes a quietness between them filled by the documentary narrator and careful sips of tea. nails (akaashi’s) drum against wrist-bone. bokuto radiates heat around him, the everglow provoking akaashi to steal a glance once more. he does not. rather, he squints to focus on the tv.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>one pretty bird hops and spins on its thin legs, leaves crunching beneath the talons of dancing feet. the other pretty bird watches, not doing much else but craning its neck to get a better view of this bouncy, attention-grabbing creature.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>(look, akaashi! did you see that? did you see it? wasn’t i cool?!)</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>an hour’s gone by when akaashi hears soft snoring and allows himself a look. the brightness of the tv paired with the dimming sky’s outside light strains his eyes. akaashi figures it must be a good time to leave. but.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto’s head is hanging low, chin tucked, a few strands of hair over his nose bridge. his browbone is smoothed and his mouth half-open, lips pressed to akaashi’s skin so lightly he hadn’t even felt it. peaceful. sleeping. his heart swells.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he untangles himself and collects his things and the bowl and mug which have dried stains now. after a thought, he tucks bokuto into bed more comfortably, who complies with the situating and doesn’t stir in his sleep. only lies on his back and faces the ceiling, a soft smile on his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi feels a lurch in his heart, a car halting abruptly in the middle of the highway. he is compelled to stay longer (how could he not, when bokuto is blue like grayed cornflower and impressionist rivers), taking care of the dishes and then returns. he sinks into the space next to bokuto. </span>
  <em>
    <span>just for a little while,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>it’s hot and a little moist under the blankets; the result of sweat buildup. bokuto’s arms wrap around him loosely, holding him to his chest like a stuffed animal. akaashi stiffens. the tv is still on, drowned out by his heart speeding up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>it is entirely all too bewildering, yet akaashi can’t reject this. couldn’t even if he tried. his face is buried into bokuto’s chest. when he pulls back and breathes, it is stuffy. too stuffy. he sniffles, a little congested from lack of space.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he gets up to pee, stumbling into the doorframe, and collects himself to go to the washroom. after washing up he comes back and climbs into bed, facing bokuto like before but not as close. figures the congestion will go away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—♡—</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>when akaashi comes to, the light is hitting his lids in a way that means a bit of sun must be out; it’s around dawn, then, perhaps. he rubs at his eyes, opening one slow and -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto, one arm folded under his head, is staring at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi flinches. “bokuto-san -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hi,” he says quietly. this, the watching over him protectively in his sleep may have been endearing otherwise, but with zero context, and at this hour, it’s unsettling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you shouldn’t be up,” says akaashi matter-of-factly. his voice comes out odd. “what time is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto scrunches his nose and shifts. “like. six? i didn’t wanna wake you up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“go back to sleep,” insists akaashi. he sniffles. “you need more rest when you’re sick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto huffs, puffing out his cheeks. whines, “heeeeey, it’s not even that bad! plus, we already slept a long time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he’s right. sighing, akaashi puts a hand on bokuto’s chest, urging him back. he complies slightly, moving but not without another whine of protest. akaashi rolls over onto his other side, curling up comfortably with his legs to his chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i need sleep, too,” he says, and shuts his eyes. “weekend practice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i know.” bokuto sounds deflated at the meer mentioning. it’s clear he wants to return quickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he rustles around, trying to get back into a suitable position. each toss and turn shakes the bed under his weight. in akaashi’s experiences - mostly those of training camps - bokuto can fall asleep best when he doesn’t have to think much. he also tends to fall asleep around the same times. he must’ve been especially relaxed last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi clutches the duvet, mouth opening and closing to say something. he sits like this for a few minutes. the rustling calms. “bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he draws the duvet up to his neck. “what were you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“uh. when?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“when i woke up.” akaashi taps the fabric. his nails have become long. he should care for them soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the rustling starts up again as bokuto rolls over and shuffles closer to akaashi. so close he just can barely feel breath on the back of his neck, ripping a small shudder from his body. bokuto sucks in a big breath and then coughs from it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“nothing.” his tone is strangely soft. “i was just…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“it isn’t nothing,” says akaashi. then he remembers last night, when he’d done the same thing to conceal his own feelings. he sighs. “you can tell me. it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto makes a strangled noise in his throat, possibly making that pouty, dejected face of his. he doesn’t want to answer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>there are several reasons bokuto would not want to tell him. before this, before rousing an answer out of him, an apology should be put in order to set him at ease.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yesterday,” starts akaashi, “i asked you why i would lie about my reason for missing practice to be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he pauses, swallowing. akaashi is a blunt person, says his feelings and thoughts directly. bokuto understands this, too. he still needs moments to gather them so he can say exactly what he means, however.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i was worried and too in-my-head. you hadn’t talked much to anyone, and...” </span>
  <em>
    <span>i thought you’d at least talk to me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“well. even knowing this, i’m sorry if my faltering made you feel worse or distracted you. i wanted to help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...akaashi, it isn’t that,” mutters bokuto. taking in a breath, he grows even quieter. “i know you would feel bad about seeing me sick, so i tried to make sure you knew i was okay. and that i was happy you came to see me. and i just...didn’t wanna worry you more. but i kind of ended up doing that, anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>so this is what it was. akaashi frowns, feeling conflicted. he flips over and faces bokuto who quite frankly looks to be on the verge of tears, deflated just as he’d thought. “i’m supposed to worry about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he looks up with his sad eyes. “what d’you mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i look after you, so. naturally i would be worried about these things.” he manages a smile - something rare which does not go undetected. bokuto’s eyes widen, pretty and fluorescent in the edges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“oh. but i worry about you, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i know, bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“no, no.” he makes big gestures with his hands, looking confused as to how he can get out what he means properly. “you know, like, when you don’t say things. i want to know how you feel. lots of times i can tell, but sometimes it’s harder and i don’t get anything. if i worry you so much to the point that you feel like you can’t tell me something, and i don’t know what’s wrong - i don’t like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi blinks. says again, penitently, “i’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he sniffles. “it’s my fault in the first place. for getting sick and worrying you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“that’s stupid to say,” says akaashi, taking hold of bokuto’s hands. his own are cold in comparison and probably unpleasant but he feels like should do this. “it isn’t your fault. even if it’s a lot to think about.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the ends of bokuto’s mouth downturn deeper. “i’m a lot to think about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yes. but that’s okay, because i like thinking about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>and - quivering lips curving upward and shoulders dropping as though his body is letting out a sigh itself - bokuto seems to be relieved, the timidness in his features gone. “awwww, akaashiiii.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“you still didn’t answer me. about what you were doing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ah, that.” bokuto purses his lips, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, and then just looks like he’s constipated. “i was. um. watchingyousleepbecauseyouwerereallypretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi, just the tiniest bit blushy, chuckles and squeezes his hands. he can feel bokuto’s veins pulsing under his skin, hot and alive and entirely him. the feeling bubbles up inside of him, the one he had looking at bokuto under the dim glow of the LED tv screen and moonlight. he presses a chaste kiss to the back of bokuto’s hand, and bokuto twitches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he inches closer, their faces so close akaashi can hear the nose-whistling again. his heart feels a little heavier in his chest. words poke at his throat, wanting desperately to climb out. he does not know what they are, so he can’t let them out. can’t do what he wants either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi is a blunt person, when he can be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>thankfully, by some prayer, something clicks and bokuto kisses him. he is careful, loving, and his lips are a little chapped but they are soft.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi has never kissed anyone before. so he tries his best to keep up, but it’s overwhelming and bokuto is licking into his mouth and then akaashi stutters in his breathing and makes a sound he did not know he can make.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>he pulls back with a cough. heat crawls onto his cheeks, and he blinks furiously. bokuto smiles, which progresses into giggling. “i didn’t know akaashi got shy like this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“hmm…” akaashi gives another squeeze and releases the hands he’d been holding gently. sniffles. bokuto squints and pokes his nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“why are you sniffling? are you going to cry?” bokuto looks worried again, and akaashi shakes his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“no, no, i’m not. i think i just got a little -” he sneezes. bokuto makes a face and wipes off the sicky, sicky particles. “...congested.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>the realisation sets in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“akaashi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“bokuto-san.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>they burst into a little bout of laughter that grows, stretches out and fills the space with warmth, soaking into the shadows that climb and dance along the walls with the light of dawn. akaashi dabs at a tear formed in the corner of his happy eyes, gazing fondly at the lovely, messy boy in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(how could he not, when bokuto is orange-yellow like sleepy sun and honeycomb?)</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>—♡—</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>bokuto eventually does go back to sleep, and akaashi thinks to do the same but decides to get up to prepare something for the both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(he’d already messaged the team group chat, telling them that neither would be able to make it. he wondered absently if anyone would suspect exactly why that was. he figures he wouldn’t mind if they did.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>downstairs, one of bokuto's sisters waves him over from her place in the kitchen. he hadn’t heard anyone come in. then again, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> been focused on nursing bokuto.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“akaashi-kun, right?” his name rolls off her tongue much nicer than it had bokuto’s when they’d first met. he nods, stopping a few metres away, and she claps. “kota-kun told me you were coming! i didn’t get to see you last time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>kota-kun. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“ah, that time...” akaashi scratches the side of his mouth, “i didn’t stay long anyway. bokuto-san - er, koutarou...forgot to bring his knee pads after he washed them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yes, yes. you take such good care of him, don’t you?” she bends over to retrieve what looks like matcha bread from the oven and turns it off, setting the loaf on the counter to cool. akaashi does not have a response to that. “is he any better? hopefully he wasn’t too much to deal with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“not at all. koutarou seems fine,” he says. after a pause, he adds, “though he was pretty congested last night. but he’s been in a good mood.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and i let him get me sick.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“well. having someone who you love take care of you always speeds things up a little. especially for kota-kun.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>she lets out a fond sigh. “when we were little, he would be sick for a week straight sometimes, and the only thing that would calm him down or make it any better was when mama would sit with him and hold him until he fell asleep. weird, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>akaashi lets a slow smile appear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone who you love. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“very.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>♡</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~ヾ(＾∇＾)woo hey!<br/>it took me a little while to post again im sorry .. (ㅠ﹏ㅠ)<br/>sickfics have a special place in my heart and they always make me coo, the intimacy of taking care of someone when they're feeling poorly is truly a gift...<br/>i hope this bokuaka was lovely to read and u enjoyed it even a little♡♡<br/>stay safe and healthy!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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